


A Matter of His Worth

by SmilesRawesome



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Featuring Donald being sad, Gen, The Void, There’s like. A lot more characters but they’re only briefly mentioned so., but people coming to the rescue :), follow up piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16967019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmilesRawesome/pseuds/SmilesRawesome
Summary: Donald sacrificed himself to save his family. This is what happens after.





	A Matter of His Worth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ant5b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ant5b/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Matter of Worth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13220838) by [ant5b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ant5b/pseuds/ant5b). 



> So a while ago the lovely Ant wrote A Matter Of Worth which should be linked somewhere on this fic. It sparked the creative wheels in my head to turn like they hadn’t in a long time. I asked Ant if I could write a follow up piece, and they said yes! So thank you for letting me write this, and I hope you ALL enjoy it!

Nothing.

  


Nothing.

  


Nothing.

  


Nothing.

  


Donald.

  


And more nothing.

  


That’s all there was to this black, inky void. Just Donald and nothing.

  


For a while, Donald had tried moving around, but there had been no way to tell if his movements were actually getting him anywhere. So he just stayed put. Stayed still in the blackness of the void, unsure what direction he was facing, unsure if he was even anywhere, unsure if he even _was_.

  


Donald could feel himself starting to go mad in here. He wasn’t like Magica, he couldn’t manipulate the void and the shadows to his will. So instead of having a revenge plot against an enemy to keep him focussed, the void was able to manipulate him instead. He closed his eyes sometimes, but it was no different than staring into the void. Though it made him feel like he was trying to stop it from corrupting him.

  


He wasn’t really. He’d put himself in here to protect his family. His friends, his uncle, his cousins, his sister (wherever she was), his _kids_. It was his job to protect them, and that meant staying put in the void for all eternity. If he tried to fight it, Magica would be able to sense it. She’d hurt them. Donald wouldn’t let that happen.

  


He could still see it, could still _hear_ it. The scene replayed in his mind's eye over and over on repeat. The kids trapped in the bubble of magic, his uncle wrapped in the stuff, struggling to breathe, Magica was hurting them. The shadows crept into his mind, changing the memory. Soon Magica was sending them to the void, tossing them into walls, zapping them with curses that left them shrieking and crying while Donald did nothing.

  


A new torture every time he watched.

  


Sending him further and further down the rabbit hole of his own mind. And further into the clutches of the void.

  


There was no concept of time in the void, so he couldn’t say how long it was between him arriving and the other presence arriving. It wasn’t a person, really, but it had the essence of one. The cloud drifted over his skin, the first sensation he’d had since being here making him jerk away. Almost instantly though, he was reaching for it again, desperate for any of his senses to work. He could see it, he could touch it, he could smell it.

  


It was familiar, yet he couldn’t place it. His mind had been too drawn into the void. The presence forced its way in, pushing back the void, doing its best to cast away the fake memories of his family being tortured. Then it started drawing real memories to the forefront of his mind. At the moment they were just flashes, but they would be there for him to call upon once the presence was banished from the void. His boys, Webby, Fethry, Launchpad, Panchito, Mickey, Gladstone, José-

  


“José.” Donald said, the presence, the cloud of cigar smoke, now recognisable. José was using his old black magic to save his mind from the void. “José.” He said again, his voice tight and cracking from disuse. He’d been alone here for what felt like _so long_ , it was a wonder to just speak and know he’d be heard.

  


_Remember us, minha amiga. Please just remember us._

  


“José.” Donald sobbed now, trying desperately to hold onto the presence of his friend. It was already slipping away. “No, no, please don’t leave me alone again.” He begged, because it was one thing to accept the fate you’d made for yourself, it was another entirely to be given hope that lasts for only a minuscule amount of time. But José did leave, and Donald cried. Cried for his lost family, his lost life.

  


José’s words stuck with him, likely because they were the only words he’d heard since he was put here. So he remembered. Remembered the good times and the bad times with his family, his friends. Thinking about them, actively thinking about them and the time they had spent together, made it harder for the void to invade his mind.

  


It still did. But the progress was slower than the last time.

  


Fethry’s first steps at the farm turned into the boys first steps in the houseboat turned into Max’s first steps during his first shore leave turned into Mickey’s party he threw to celebrate his first movie turned into Daisy walking beside him on a date turned into Panchito kissing his cheek for the first time turned into Scrooge hugging him after his anger had gotten so out of control it had scared him turned into Louie shyly telling him he thought a boy in his class was cute instead of a girl turned into José teaching him to dance turned into Gladstone finding twenty dollars turned into Della trapping him and Dewey in the Santa trap turned into Dewey practising for the school play turned into Webby beating them all at nerf darts turned into, turned into, turned into.

  


The void changed some of the memories, as it had before, but the process took longer. Since Donald wasn’t focusing on one event, the void didn’t have time to corrupt the memories too badly before he moved on. It did get worse the longer he went. The void was drawing him in again, he could feel it happening this time, but he still didn’t fight it. Not beyond remembering as much as he could before the void corrupted his memories.

  


Just when he was on the cusp of losing himself completely, José returned. He helped banish the void from his mind once again, lingering around a little longer this time.

  


_I still cannot stay long_.

“As long as you can. Please, José.”

_Sim. As long as I can. You also have to promise me to keep remembering us. Keep remembering your family._

“You can’t do this forever. One day you’ll die and I’ll still be here. I’ll be lost eventually.”

 _Not while I can help it_.

“... Thank you.”

 _Anything for you, Donal’. We would do_ anything _for you_.

“We?”

 _Your family. Your kids, your cousins, your friends, your uncle_.

“Scrooge wouldn’t go to this much trouble. I didn’t even think you would. I know I don’t mean as much as… well, anyone else.”  

_Oh, Donal’. We love you so much. We’re doing ev-_

  


José was cut off, snapped back to the land of the living abruptly. Donald cried again, almost tempted to just let the void take him with how heartbroken he was. A memory of José rose to the surface unbidden, his face turning guilty as Donald confessed he had been lying, quickly stepping to the plate and admitting he had done so as well. Coming to Donald’s aid unprompted as always, sticking by his side.

  


So Donald did what José wanted him to do. He remembered.

  


The process was the same. Remembering, remembering, remembering. The void slowly but surely corrupting him. Remembering, remembering, remembering wrong. The memories changing, the void pulling him in. Remembering.

  


Even though there was no time in the void, it just _felt_ like a much longer time until José appeared again.

  


José was panicked, but he did what he always did. Clearing Donald’s mind from corruption yet again.

  


_You’ve done so well keeping yourself together. It won’t be long now. Think of your boys. Think of your boys, Donal’. Huey, Dewey, Louie, think of you boys._

  


José vanished just like that, not even trying to stay around, and Donald was too shocked to cry. Instead, he thought of his boys.

  


Taking Huey to his first woodchuck camp, making Halloween costumes together, Dewey beaming up at him and saying his first word, a homemade birthday cake with a sloppy icing job because the boys had wanted to help, Louie proudly showing off his first budget to try and get them to have a holiday, a plane ride together towards a casino, Webby shyly asking if he would plait her hair again.

  


He might have been surprised at that once, before entering the void. But after studying his memories for so long, he knew better.

  


Webby wasn’t one of his boys, but she was one of his _kids_.

  


There was a burst of light, making Donald let out a panicked quack, shielding his eyes after so long in the darkness. A hand appeared through the light, solid but with the essence of shadow, wearing a bracelet that he knew he’d seen before. The hand was reaching for him, stretching out into an arm.

  


Not knowing what else to do, he reached out and took it.

  


Light.

  


Sound.

  


Smell.

  


Taste.

  


Donald.

  


Touch.

  


The hand was still grasped in his own, his eyes following the hand to an arm and a shoulder and then a face that he recognised but looked so much older than it should be. Lena was a young teenager, 15 at most, not a young adult.

  


The magic that brought him back into the world slowly disappeared, lowering him to the ground gently. Gentle as it was, his limbs hadn’t held him up in a long time, and he collapsed onto his hands and knees, staring at the ground beneath him in shock. A light buzzing was starting in his ears, his vision swimming, when someone gave him a solid _whack_ to the back making him gasp.

  


Oh. Air. Breathing. Donald hadn’t even realised he hadn’t been breathing in the void. It took him a few minutes to get the hang of it again.

  


A myriad of groans caught his attention, making him look up from the stone ground beneath his hands. There were… _so many people_ here. Wherever here was. The ones that caught his attention were the ones closest to him, however. The familiar colours of Red, Blue, Green and Pink adorning ducks with faces that looked so familiar and yet could not possibly be.

  


His boys were ten years old. Webby was thirteen.

  


They, like Lena, were not _young adults_.

  


Huey was the first up of the four of them, checking over his siblings before looking up towards Donald. The boys- the mans face froze, his beak dropping, frantically slapping at his siblings to get their attention. Louie looked up next, then Webby and last was Dewey, but Dewey was the first one to choke out a sob.

  


“Uncle Donald!” Dewey cried, scrambling to his feet to run towards him, crashing down on the stone beside him to pull him into a bone crushing hug. He was quickly joined by the other three kids, all of them clinging to him and squeezing him tightly. It was a bit awkward, considering Donald had only just learnt how to breathe again, but he welcomed the sensation. He never thought he’d see his kids again, let alone hold them.

  


“Guys, guys, give him a minute. He hasn’t breathed in ten years.” Lena said behind them, and the kids backed off a little. Donald reached for them again, desperate for any sort of sensation.

“What-“ he choked, his throat dry and scratchy.

“Easy, Uncle Donald.” Huey said, helping him into a sitting position. “You’ve been in the void for a long time. We’ve all been working together to get you back for ten years.”

  


Donald frowned, looking back to the rest of the large room, seeing all the others properly for the first time. The amount of people astonished him. Mickey, Minnie and Max were helping Goofy up. José and Panchito were checking Daisy, April, May and June for injuries. Fethry was glancing between him and Fenton, Gladstone by their side. Storkules, Selene and Della were close by, leaning against each other. Gyro was with Manny, Lil Bulb and Professor Von Drake. Uno was frowning distastefully at his detached arm. Launchpad and Mrs Beakley were checking over Drake and Gosalyn to make sure they were alright. Scrooge was just to the side of where the kids had been, clutching his cane in both hands and just staring up at Donald.

  


Everyone was bruised and battered, some people were bleeding. Getting a proper look at his kids, Louie had a scar on his cheek, Webby one on the underside of her beak.

“I- I don’t-“

“If you say you don’t understand I might actually punch you in the face.” Fethry interrupted, his voice high and cracking. Donald blinked at his cousin, unsure how to respond. Fethry huffed, relaxing only when Fenton reached up and took his hand.

  


“Donald, you’re our family.” Mickey spoke up, a smile on his face despite the bruises and grazes covering him.

“We would do anything for you, and anything apparently extends very far.” Uno said.

“None of us knew what to do without ya, cuz.” Gladstone.

“I came back from the moon to find my brother missing. I wasn’t gonna be separated any longer than I had to be.” Della.

“You ignored what you taught me was the most important rule: only get dangerous safely.” Drake.

“We can hardly be the Three Caballeros with only two of us, amigo.” Panchito.

“Aye wasn’t going’ta lose anymore family.” Scrooge.

“You’re not just our uncle, you’re our dad.” Louie finished, his voice cracking as tears filled his eyes.

  


Donald trembled where he sat, overwhelmed with the love he was receiving. He hadn’t thought he was this important to anyone, let alone this many people. He knew his his family loved him, but to risk all this for him? He tried to take a deep breath, but just ended up sobbing. His kids wrapped him in a hug again, and he clung onto them in return.

“Thank you.” Donald sighed as his tears tapered off, smiling though the last of his tears.

  


“Seems I’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Seems so, Uncle Donald.”

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE let me know your thoughts in the comments!! Comments make my whole day, week, month, year, life, etc. Thanks again to the lovely Ant and please go read their original piece!


End file.
